First, as to the past, he had not the shadow
of a doubt. He realized that he had fallen into a vile trap, and
the person who had laid it for him was undoubtedly M. de Coralth,
who, seated at his right, had prepared the "hands" with which he
had won. This was evident. It seemed equally proven that Madame
d'Argeles knew the real culprit--possibly she had detected him in
the act, possibly he had taken her into his confidence. But what
he could not fathom was M. de Coralth's motive. What could have
prompted the viscount to commit such an atrocious act? The
incentive must have been very powerful, since he had naturally
incurred the danger of detection and of being considered an
accomplice at the least. And then what influence had closed
Madame d'Argeles's lips? But after all, what was the use of these
conjectures? It was an actual, unanswerable, and terrible fact
that this infamous plot had been successful, and that Pascal was
dishonored. He was honesty itself, and yet he was accused--more
than that, CONVICTED--of cheating at cards! He was innocent, and
yet he could furnish no proofs of his innocence. He knew the real
culprit, and yet he could see no way of unmasking him or even of
accusing him. Do what he would, this atrocious, incomprehensive
calumny would crush him. The bar was closed against him; his
career was ended. And the terrible conviction that there was no
escape from the abyss into which he had fallen made his reason
totter--he felt that he was incapable of deciding on the best
course, and that he must have a friend's advice.
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